


An Invasion of Privacy

by RiaLuvsYou



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mentions of Death, Mentions of John/Anthea, Mentions of John/Irene, Mentions of attempted suicide, Oneshot, Other, Shower Sex, Story within a Story, gets serious at the end, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaLuvsYou/pseuds/RiaLuvsYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored one day (big surprise) and makes the 'brilliant' decision to snoop through John's laptop. Who knew John had a knack for smutty fanfiction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Invasion of Privacy

**Author's Note:**

> Blah blah blah, I don't own Sherlock, no need to remind me...  
> Also, It's been edited so the ending isn't too abrupt. Thanks Katelyn!

It was just another cold winter day on Baker Street, snow flurries falling from the sky but refusing to stick. Children running around while their parents called after them to bundle up or else they'd become ill. Nobody paid any mind to apartment 221B, where a sociopathic genius was dying.

Well, dying of boredom - his flatmate was nowhere to be found. It was such an annoyance really, having to constantly come up with something to do, a puzzle to decipher or, better yet, a good crime to solve. Hell, he'd even go for a pint if the other man was there, anything to help relieve his boredom! But nooo, his John just _had_ to go out somewhere for something trivial, leaving him, the _great_ Sherlock Holmes, to ponder simple cases. Most of those cases were either affairs, political scandals, or regular murders, so nothing particularly interesting. Nothing special enough to have John write about... Sherlock's eyes widened slightly at a beautiful thought.

"Of course!" he said out loud, as was his habit to do whenever struck with an idea that had been evading him. He got up from his chair and walked to his blogger's room, before grabbing the man's laptop and quickly typing in the password. He scoffed at what it was, honestly, who on Earth had their password be 'Rycbar124'? Any competent Brit would figure it out within moments.

He planned on just reading through a few blog posts John had written about some past cases, just to find something new to tease him about, but when he opened up the web browser, he stilled.

Was... Was that a drawing of him and John...in the shower? Together? Intimately? The consulting detective couldn't help but trace every single digital line with his eyes, from the rough, war callused hands that gripped at broad shoulders, to the fleshy long member that teased at a tanned arse, to lips with a well-defined cupid's bow that brushed against those of a man that strikingly resembled John.

Sherlock's breath hitched at the drawing's caption, 'Just some fanart for the piece I'm writing.' A link followed it and, well, the man couldn't help himself, his fingers dragged the mouse to the link and clicked on it before he thought it through.

When another tab popped up, Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was obviously John's private work, any idiot could see that. There were some lines even Sherlock knew he shouldn't cross. If he were to read the paragraphs he was never meant to see, then the...friendship he held with John would be changed forever. This was something he'd never be able to delete from his mind palace, because this had already affected the way he thought of John.

The drawing...it sparked something in his chest, something he had never felt for Janine, or any other person. Yes, he knew what lust felt like, and if he was being honest with himself, he knew that this wasn't lust. Lust was quick, and burned out fast. A week at most, a week was usually what it took for him to lose interest.

But…it had been a very long time since he first met John, and as anyone could clearly see, he wasn’t bored with the man at all.

He started reading.

_“I heard Sherlock move around the flat, making as much noise as he usually did. The man was always so loud, especially in the mornings when he had just ‘wasted valuable time sleeping’. ‘Valuable time’ my arse! He spent all his time moaning about how bored he was, or about how any case I showed him was so dull and simple. I was just as bored as he was! Sherlock’s mind is one of those great minds that no one can truly understand; I just wished he’d take some time to understand the needs of those around him as well. Fuck, I was resorting to rubbing one off just for a moment of entertainment!_

_Speaking of which, I was getting bored again. And, as I couldn’t very well wank in my room (Sherlock apparently didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘knocking’) I had to wait for the shower. And Sherlock, let’s just say, kept somewhat creepy observations about how long my showers took. Sad to say, I’ve had to learn to be quick._

_Once I was in the shower, I scrubbed myself clean before taking myself in hand. A few slow tugs here and there, with the occasional palming of my cock head were what usually got me off. Yeah, the orgasms weren’t the best, they were actually pretty short and boring, but at least it was something._

_I closed my eyes and imagined a willing body before me, all soft and curves and pale white skin. Someone like Anthea, or Irene, strong and smart, their lips stretching around my cock, cheekbones prominent as they sucked hard. Moaning, I stroked harder using one hand to reach up and pinch my nipple. The sting of pain was delicious, but I knew I needed more or else this would take too long. So, as a man that knew more than enough about anatomy, I moved my hand back down to slip a finger inside myself._

_It was a tad bit awkward, but after finding that little pebble of pleasure, I shuddered with desire. I pushed in another finger, enjoying the stretching sensation. Soon enough, I forgot all about the imaginary woman in front of me, choosing instead to think of purely on the two, now three, fingers inside me._

_I started thrusting them in and out, faster and faster, tugging harder at my cock, feeling myself right at the edge…_

_‘John, Lestrade just called, we have a…case…’_

_And of course now was the time Sherlock chose to barge in._

_I quickly pulled my fingers out from myself, but from my erect and leaking cock, it was obvious to Sherlock what I was doing. Which, I was mortified to realise, he was staring at my cock, wide eyed and slack jawed. And he wasn’t leaving._

_‘Sherlock, get_ out _!’ I snapped covering myself with my hands. Dear god, I could feel the angry blush covering my face, why wasn’t he leaving?! He was just standing there, looking at me like I was some strange case to be solved. Soon enough, I got my answer._

_‘John,’ he said quietly, tilting his head to the side. ‘Do me a favour and start fucking yourself on your fingers again, would you?’ His eyes were fixated on mine now, which I found to be even more embarrassing than when he was staring at my cock._

_‘…sorry?’ I asked, obviously I didn’t hear him right!_

_‘John…’ he murmured, moving to close the door behind him before starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. God…he looked delicious in that purple shirt, he looked like sex personified. ‘I said, do me a favour and shove those long,’ he pulled his shirt off, ‘beautiful,’ he undid his trousers and slipped them off in a single motion, ‘gorgeous fingers back into your tight arse.’ He was completely naked now, and stepping into the small shower with me._

_I was stunned at his actions, and a small part of my mind was screaming at me to push him away and out of the room. The larger part of my mind though, was taking in his muscles, long legs and broad shoulders, the occasional spattering of beauty marks and scars from past cases. His long, thick member was hard and a bead of pre-cum was emerging from the slit before being washed away by the stream of the water._

_Before I knew it, he was standing in front of me, and I startled from the sudden feeling of a hot body pressed against mine._

_‘John,’ he said as our cocks aligned and he started to rut on me. ‘My dear Watson, if you won’t tease your prostate for me, may I?’ he asked. I couldn’t answer, my mind was full of sensations and thoughts like more, yes, feels good, Sherlock… Suffice to say, my mind was turned to mush, so all I could answer with was a jerking nod._

_I gasped when I felt his large fingers enter me, and moaned when he found my prostate. I felt so full, so good, I couldn’t keep my head up and so I rested it on Sherlock’s shoulder. When I felt his lips against my neck I simply sighed and turned my head more to give him better access. He sucked and bit, while filling me up with his three, now four, fingers, and rubbing his hard cock against mine._

_There was still that small part of me that knew this should stop before it went further, but the rest of me was aching for orgasm, and I was lost in a haze of needy and submissive pleasure._

_I pulled my head back and looked Sherlock in his eyes, his gorgeous, wonderful eyes._

_‘Sherlock, please,’ I bit out. He smirked._

_‘Yes, John?’ he asked, as if he didn’t know what I was asking for._

_‘Don’t make me ah-ask,’ I muttered, starting to move back to fuck myself on his fingers. Dear god, his fingers were magic, finding every wonderful spot in me and making me moan and gasp. He’d pull them out and tease the rim before gripping my arse and then going back in to rub inside me._

_‘John, I might be a genius, but even I can’t read minds,’ he said, grinning._

_‘Well you bloody well fooled me,’ I replied, before again, moaning loudly when he bit my neck. ‘Ah…fine, please, Sherlock, please fuck me, I need you…’ I could feel a blush form again. I felt empty when he pulled his fingers from me, and cold when he moved away to spread some lotion on his cock. God, his cock. It was huge, a good nine, maybe ten inches, and maybe two inches thick. It was a pale pink, the head red and leaking. I wanted to taste it, to suck it, to feel him cum in my throat and swallow everything he had to give me. I’m sure he’d taste wonderful…I licked my lips and looked at Sherlock._

_‘You have to let me suck you off later,’ I stated._

_His pupils were blown and his breath was quick, skin wet and slick with water from the hot shower, and I thought that this was probably what he looked like when he was high. I made a mental note to nick some morphine from work, or ask Mrs. Hudson for some “herbal” sweets._

_Sherlock pressed me against the wall and pulled one of my legs up on his hip to give him more access to my hole. He rubbed the head of his cock on my rim, but paused and looked at me._

_‘Well what’re you waiting for?’ I asked, a bit miffed at the fact that he wasn’t pounding into me._

_‘John, I love you,’ he said before kissing me gently and sliding inside me. He…what? Sherlock gave lazy thrusts as he kept kissing me. I kissed him back, what else could I do? This was supposed to be just sex! I mean, yeah, I had feelings for the man, very strong, sometimes terrifyingly possessive ones, but Sherlock wasn’t the type to have feeling for people other than contempt or amusement. He was perfectly capable of any emotion, but it took him years to express it, so-_

_‘John, stop thinking so loudly,’ he muttered into the kiss._

_‘And you said you couldn’t read minds,’ I fired back. ‘No shit, Sherlock, I love you too.’_

_He laughed, and started thrusting harder against me. I fell back into that haze of pleasure. He hit my prostate with every move and palmed my cock with renewed interest. I started kissing him once more, desperate for a taste of him again. His warm tongue moved with mine, it was perfect._

_My muscles quivered and I knew I was close again. Sherlock’s hips started to work faster and faster, making me feel so full and good and I wanted more, more, more…_

_I gasped and gripped Sherlock’s shoulders when I came, long and hard and I couldn’t remember the last time I orgasmed so well._

_Sherlock wasn’t far behind, his fat cock pumping inside me harder and faster and then he stopped, grinding inside me as he filled me with hot cum. My dick twitched again, wanting another round._

_He panted and gasped, still holding me up and his cock still hard inside me. I wanted to pull him into a bed and suck his glorious cock, maybe fuck him too, but there were other matters to attend to._

_‘You said something about a case?’ I asked._

_‘Mmm, that can wait a day…or two,’ he said starting to thrust back in and out of me. ‘It’s not like they’re going to solve it on their own. I’ll text Lestrade later, tell him we’re busy.’_

_I grinned and kissed him again._

_I doubt we’d be bored any time soon.”_

Sherlock let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Did John actually write this?  He never would have deduced that his flatmate was romantically interested in him. Yes, many had teased them or mistook them for lovers, but…John liked him? Why?

It was such a strange concept; nobody ever ‘liked’ him. With Janine it had been his body, with all the other men and women, it had been the fact that he was attractive and a conquest. That was understandable, liking him as a person? Not so much.

Sherlock closed the laptop and left it on the bed, contemplating what his choices were about this situation.

He’d have to find out then, once John returned home from wherever he was…

-page break-

“Ah, Sherlock, good afternoon, how are you?” he heard. Afternoon? It was afternoon? Still? He voiced his thoughts to John.

“Yeah, Sher, it’s still afternoon, I’ve only been out for a few hours. Honestly, is time all…wibbily wobbly for you?”

“Wibbily…? No, John, but I’ve been bored. Count yourself lucky I haven’t been shooting the wall again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m so lucky that the police won’t be showing up for the third time this month.”

“Well a month _is_ a long time for me…”

“Sherlock, it’s only the 8th.”

“Whatever.”

“Mrs. Hudson’s baking us some sweets, are you planning on eating some this time?”

“Maybe, have you brought home any drugs?”

“Any _what_?”

“Any mugs. I needed the ones you bought last time and now we only have one.” Well, at least that was true. He needed to heat something up and didn’t realise its explode. That, and he’d never admit that he was hoping for some morphine.

“Oh, no, I’m sure I can find another. I’ve learnt to hide my things from your experiments.”

“And what else have you learnt to do around me?” Did John really wank in the shower? And how did he know that Sherlock kept a record of how long he spent in the shower? It was purely for research purposes, of course. Maybe. If you didn’t look at the notes.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, nothing…” So far John only looked confused. Nothing to imply that he was attracted to Sherlock.

“Alright then… Well, has Lestrade texted you at all today about a new case?” He seemed a bit bored if nothing else.

“No, well maybe, but something else came up, I told him I’d be busy, probably tomorrow as well.” If things went his way, probably all this week. “After all, it’s not as though they’ll solve it without me.”

“Ah…a client then?” Yes, definitely bored.

“No, not a client, something more of a personal matter.”

“A date then?” Was that jealousy?

“Of a sort, seeing as today is a date, and it will involve dinner, maybe a bottle or two of wine.” John licked his lips and sat down in his chair. He asked about who it was with.

“John, don’t be silly, with you of course. We haven’t sat down for a proper meal in ages!” John was obviously surprised, but gave a small smile. Pleased now, good.

“Well maybe if you’d actually _eat_ instead of whining about how the food was probably poisoned or about how the couple across the room was cheating on each other with their bosses.

“But you stilled laughed about it and asked me to tell you more before the main course even arrived.”

“I didn’t ask for the fact that they shared a boss, and that the boss was also married to a woman who was sitting next to us. I’ve never seen a woman cry so much in her life.”

“So dinner?”

“I’ll put the groceries away and then grab my coat.”

-page break-

Dinner had been somewhat uneventful. Sherlock kept mentioning part for John’s stories in a subtle way, always managing to keep him from becoming suspicious. Yes, they solved a murder of the way back from it, but really, it was such a boring murder. A wife hired a hit man to kill her husband who was sleeping with her sister, but turns out, the hit man was in love with her sister so he killed both the wife _and_ the husband, consoling the distraught sister. The man was arrested, and the sister was left with inheriting the family wealth…then again, maybe the sister was a genius… Oh well, still boring.

At the moment, Sherlock was busy thinking about what to say to John about the…fanfiction. He had tried to bring it up during dinner, but kept backing out at the last second. He knew he loved the man, his past actions made that glaringly obvious. Hell, he practically (and legally) _died_ for John. One would have to be dumb, blind, and deaf to not see it! Or have a low IQ, like Anderson. It made him wonder how John didn’t see it himself, but then again, Sherlock barely realised it this morning, and John had been writing…that, for who knows how long!

They were both idiots really.

So that was it. He’d tell John what happened, they’d have some hot sex, then laugh about how stupid they both were, it was brilliant!

He got up from his room and went to Johns, a grin on his face.

“I see you’ve completely ignored all sense of privacy again.”

A grin which promptly left his face.

His blood ran cold when his eyes met John’s from across the room. John was obviously angry, his lips thin and trembling. His eyes were unusually bright, so Sherlock assumed the other man was angry to the point of tears.

“John, I’m,” he started, but stopped. What was he supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry’? Why would he be sorry about finding something that would make them both so happy?

“How _dare you_ invade my privacy like that?” John said, his voice low and dangerous. He strode up to where Sherlock was standing and curled his hands into fists. “You have _no right_ to enter my room without my permission, much less snoop through my bloody laptop! No, let me guess, you were _bored_ , weren’t you?! Then by all means, fuck around with my things! I know you read what I wrote, or else you wouldn’t have that horrified look on your face. Well I’m sorry I’m a stupid fucking idiot that for some reason is attracted to you! For such a smart man, you forgot to close the story’s tab, as well as logging out and putting the fucking laptop back on my desk.”

“John.”

“No! You always have your fucking monologues, ranting about how fucking smart and amazing you are and how dumb and bloody useless the rest of us mere mortals are! Hell, even today, you solved a case that would take anyone else months, years maybe. Of course we know how intelligent you are” John hissed. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “I don’t know why I… Fuck, Sherlock, I don’t know why I love you so damn much.” He leaned against the wall by the door and glared at the floor. This was…how did he not realise how…he wasn’t a good man, he didn’t deserve John…

“John…you shouldn’t hold these feelings for me. I’m a bad influence. I put the people I care about in danger, I risk my life for fun, I get high when I’m bored and my idea of a sex is that it’s a tool to use to get what I want. I’m a high functioning sociopath, but a sociopath none the less. I hurt people because I can, John. Don’t love me.” John's shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

“I can’t do that, Sher. ‘Cause I know all that and I still do. Don’t act like you’re the only one here who’s damaged. I’ve killed people, in the war, I killed children who were fighting for what they thought was right. Kids barely old enough to know what a gun is, much less aim one, or get shot by one. I tried to kill myself because of it, you know. I took the lives of innocent kids, I should’ve shot myself years ago. I still have nightmares about it, and the only times I don’t have nightmares are when I’m dreaming about you. You distract me from so many bad things in this world, and I can actually feel like I’m doing something good. Fuck, maybe that’s why I love you, I don’t know. What I do know, is that after you were gone, I couldn’t bear to look at a crime scene. I couldn’t eat, sleep, I couldn’t _think_ about anything. I couldn’t look at other people because I’d start to notice- _deduce_ things about them, and I hated it. I hate life without you. I can’t do that again. So whatever you decide to do about this, just please…please don’t leave me alone again…”

Sherlock pulled the shorter man towards him and into a hug, nuzzling his hair.

“I’ll end up hurting you,” he said.

“I’ve been hurt more than you know,” John replied.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispered. “I’ve killed people for you.”

“I love you too. And so have I.”

“You need to get a better password. Next time I might find your internet history.”

“Twat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...got kinda serious at the end right? And sorry that it's pretty rushed, I wrote this in a few hours. Review? If there are any mistakes, please tell me!  
> Also, anyone catch the doctor who references?  
> rycbar124 was clara's password, 'run you clever boy and remember'  
> also, wibbily wobbly timey wimey!


End file.
